


How to Murder Malfoy

by Kerichi



Series: Draco Malfoy/Lily Luna Potter Alchemical Romance [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Drinking & Talking, Drinking Games, Gen, Humor, Poker Nights, Weasley Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 12:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11967300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerichi/pseuds/Kerichi
Summary: When their niece Lily elopes with an old enemy, Ron, George, Percy, and Bill invent a new drinking game for poker night: How to Murder Malfoy.





	How to Murder Malfoy

 

 

Thursday poker nights were a long-standing tradition among the Weasley brothers. In the beginning, after the final battle, they’d gathered in the flat above WWW to drink to Fred and better days. As time passed, they got together to swap work stories, talk Quidditch, and give each other advice, solicited or not. Poker nights weren’t a fixed, every Thursday or once a month scheduled event. Any brother, including the one with the last name of Potter, could owl the others to convene poker night whenever needed. Charlie only made it to one or two a year, and Harry and Bill were sometimes unable to attend due to being out of the country on a case or curse breaking job, but the tradition continued whether three brothers or six met around the octagon table.

The day after a wedding notice in the _Daily Prophet_ announced the marriage of Mr Draco Malfoy and Miss Lily Potter had taken place on Aero Island, Denmark, four brothers gathered in the room that had previously served as Fred and George’s lounge. In poker night custom, each wore the t-shirt of their favourite Quidditch team. George wore Harpies green, Bill’s muscular chest stretched faded Puddlemere blue fabric, Ron wore an orange shirt emblazoned with a cannonball, while Percy donned a Gryffindor House t-shirt since he wasn’t that keen on Quidditch.

“Are we waiting for Harry?” Percy asked when his brothers continued to stand in front of the fireplace.

“I didn’t send him an owl,” Ron said. “Lily’s not his niece.”

 _Not his niece_ was a play on what Harry had said the night before when they’d gone to Grimmauld Place for what each had thought was a meeting to discuss how to rid Lily of her Malfoy problem. When Ron said he’d never accept the git into their family, Harry told him he didn’t have to.

_Lily’s not your daughter._

Bill put a hand on Ron’s arm and gave it a bracing squeeze. “I was proud of you for keeping your temper.”

“It hit me like a punch to the gut.” Ron rubbed his stomach as if feeling the blow anew. “I couldn’t say a word for hours. Just went to bed and stared at the ceiling.” He looked wryly at Percy. “Hermione almost owled Audrey to come give me a sedative.”

“Good thing she didn’t. My wife was busy giving me comfort.” Percy’s ears reddened at his brothers’ snickers.

George winked at Percy. “I don’t call what my Angel gives me comfort, but if Ronnikins had gotten some he wouldn’t have needed a sedative.”

Ron stalked over to the drinks cupboard and picked up a bottle of Firewhisky. “I said Hermione _almost_ owled.”

Bill ran a hand over the scars on his face that pulled and ached whenever he was tense. “Are we playing poker or standing around bragging about having sex with our wives?”

“Noticed you weren’t bragging, Billy,” George shot back. His expression became comically pitying. “Did Fleur have a headache?”

“No, she did not!” Bill’s lips twitched over the chuckles that greeted his emphatic reply.

Ron was the only one not smiling. “I don’t want to play cards. I want to drink until I forget my niece eloped with an arsehole ferret.” He poured himself a glass of Firewhisky.

“Brilliant idea!” George exclaimed.

His brothers just stared at him.

George heaved a theatrical sigh. “It’s moments like this when I miss Fred more than my lost ear.” He gazed upward as if asking for patience to deal with the slow-witted and then announced, “We’ll play a drinking game!”

Ron shook his head. “Not in the mood.”

“ _That’s what she said_ ,” the other three replied in unison.

“Bugger off.” Ron gave them the finger.

George went over to sling an arm around Ron’s shoulders. “You’ll like this game, little brother.” He waved grandly with his free hand. “It’s called How to Murder Malfoy.” He paused a heartbeat and then said, “Hypothetically, because . . . pesky morals, but it’ll be just what the Healer ordered.” He glanced at Percy. “A Healer other than Audrey, of course.”

“Of course.” Percy sat down at the poker table and Summoned a glass. He caught it mid-air. “What are the rules?”

“Can’t be too easy,” Bill said after taking the seat next to Percy. “Not just murder, but how to get away with murdering Malfoy.”

“I’m in,” Ron said. He grabbed another glass and gave it to Bill before dropping heavily into a chair.

George brought over a couple of Firewhisky bottles and his own glass. He sat down, poured himself a shot and passed the bottle to Percy. “Each of us shares how we think we could get away with the murder—I say death by wizard wheeze—and then we’ll take turns thinking up deaths fitting the first chosen category. Whoever runs out of imagination has to drink. The last person to drink chooses the next category of murder, etc, etc.”

Ron lifted his glass to salute George. “Bloody genius, you are. I choose death by Muggle.” His smile was more wolfish than Bill’s. “Random and violent.”

“Animal attack,” Bill said with a smirk.

After contemplating the Firewhisky in his glass, Percy said, “Accident.”

“We’ll go clockwise,” George said. “Me, Percy, Bill, Ron—me first because it’s my Firewhisky.” He cleared his throat with an Umbridge-like “ahem ahem” and said, “Portable Swamp with invisible quicksand.”

Percy frowned. “Lily could be harmed instead of Malfoy.”  

George rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’m disqualified.” He drank his shot of Firewhisky.

“U-No-Poo,” Percy said. “Constipation call kill you. Straining can cause a fatal heart arrhythmia.”

“Haven’t sold that crap in years,” Ron said. “Drink up.”

As Percy downed a shot, Bill swirled his drink around in his glass. “Fainting Fancy eaten on a picnic by the lake. Malfoy becomes unconscious while swimming and drowns.”

“Only if it’s a picnic for one,” George said regretfully. “Lily would save him.”

“That means I get to change the category to death by Muggle while Bill drinks.” Ron rubbed his hands together. “So many ways to die by random violence.”

“You should have made random violence your category,” Percy said. “Malfoy isn’t going to be strolling down Muggle streets.” He looked from Bill to George for confirmation. When they nodded, he said with brotherly satisfaction, “Drink up, Ronald.”

“Animal attack, then,” George said. “Can’t be a werewolf, too dangerous around Lily.” He snapped his fingers. “Malfoy’s in mid-life crisis, right? He’ll be wanting to buy a gold necklace to hide the scar Harry gave him. We let a rabid Niffler loose on the property, the gold lures it into the house where it bites him—”

“ _And Lily_ ,” Percy said in a tone of exasperated disapproval. “You keep forgetting her.” He turned to Bill. “No offense, but unless someone has a way of luring Malfoy into the woods on his own, animal attack isn’t a viable option, and you and George both have to drink another shot.”

“I’ll join you,” Ron said, gulping down the Firewhisky in his glass before filling it again. He poured Bill and George another drink. “What’s left? Accidents? I say he _accidentally_ trips and falls down the stairs.”

“Struck by lightning!” George said. He drank a shot with gusto. “I’m sure there’s a spell for that.”

“As long as no one else is around when you cast it,” Percy told him with a narrowed gaze.

George held up a hand as if swearing an oath. “All alone with his flashy gold chain that acts as a lightning rod.”

“That’s more like it.” Percy sipped his drink. “Chokes to death on a sweet.”

“As much as we hate to admit it, Lily would save him,” George said.

Percy muttered, “He could eat sweets in private,” and drained the rest of his glass.

“Racing broom malfunction,” Ron said, drinking his shot. “I know, Lily could save Malfoy’s arse then too.” He poured another round, emptied his glass again and slammed it down with a thud. “What does she see in him? Is she mental?”

“He’s rich,” Percy said, “Lord of the manor and all that. Lily’s always been Harry’s little princess.”

“Spoiled, you mean,” Ron snapped.

Bill shook his head. “No more than any of our daughters. They all get what they want and have a mind of their own.” He started to drink another shot and then put down his glass. “I’m done talking about Malfoy. Anyone want to play poker?”

George fetched a deck of cards and attempted to shuffle. “Did someone jinx these to be slippery?”

Percy squinted. “The numbers are blurry.”

“Play drunk, play dumb,” Ron said. He scratched his chin. “Got any Sobriety potion, George?”

“Used it up the last time we got pissed.”

They sat in silence until Bill pushed to his feet. “Fleur and I stayed over at Ted and Victoire’s. Better to Floo than Apparate in my condition.” He strolled toward the fireplace. “Goodnight, brothers.”

 _“Goodnight,”_ they chorused.

“I have a meeting with Broom Regulatory Control first thing tomorrow,” Percy said. “I’d best be off as well.” He only swayed a couple of times on his way to the fireplace.

“Bet he remembers your ‘racing broom malfunction’ idea tomorrow and has a laugh,” George told Ron.

The corners of Ron's mouth turned down. "Wish I could laugh about it."

"It'll happen," George said. "One day. Until then, we have poker nights."

“Here here.” Ron glanced at his watch, and groaned. "Hermione said she'd wait up for me. I have to go." He stumbled toward the fireplace. Floo Powder in hand, he turned to ask, “D’you think Harry will still play poker with us?”

“Yeah,” George said. “If you invite him, numpty.”

Ron ducked his head, expression sheepish. “I will.”

When he was alone with his thoughts and memories, George raised his glass in a final toast.  "To you, Fred, and better days."

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by Organ Grinder's comment on my one shot The Mum Test: "If I'm being honest I don't see why they don't just kill Draco. About a half a dozen people in the Burrow had perfect justification for it. He's a Death Eater so no one would care and they'd get away scott free." I replied that they couldn't (pesky morals) but maybe they'd make a drinking game out of ways to kill Malfoy. The idea was too amusing not to write it, and I hope readers enjoyed the poker night too!
> 
> The fic is Cursed Child canon-compliant because Draco was a widower (before he met and married Lily in this Potterverse). A Not One True Pairing challenge inspired me to turn a couple I didn't previously ship into one that's launched a fleet of one shots: Love and Alchemy, Alchemical Love, A Family Affair, The Mum Test, and this story.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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